


Falconry: Red-Tailed

by BetaCobra



Series: Falconry [2]
Category: Cobra Kai (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Confessions, Dating, Emotional Manipulation, Established Relationship, F/M, Father Figures, Gaslighting, Insecurity, Jealousy, M/M, Responsibility, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Sexist Language, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:48:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23919967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BetaCobra/pseuds/BetaCobra
Summary: With Sensei Lawrence continuing to date his mother, Miguel feels more and more insecure about how he ranks next to his Sensei’s son. Hawk, meanwhile, runs into an old familiar face, which digs up self-doubt of his own.AU canon-divergent from Season 2. A sequel to Falconry.
Relationships: Carmen Diaz/Johnny Lawrence, Miguel Diaz/Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz
Series: Falconry [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1691446
Comments: 37
Kudos: 108





	1. Borealis

“So what kind of flicks does your mom like to go see?” asked Sensei Lawrence, walking towards the kitchen. He tried phrasing it so innocuously, as though this was nothing more than a casual conversation. But Miguel could see through it. So, Sensei Lawrence was taking his mother to the movies that evening. Others might’ve considered it sophomoric, but Miguel thought it was just the right blend of romantic and relaxed.

He shrugged like it was no big deal. “It’s kinda hard to go wrong, she likes all kinds of movies. Well, maybe stay away from anything with a lot of cursing or gore. I mean, I don’t really think she’s a prude or anything, but you know, maybe something a bit more mellow and laid-back.”

Four months. Four whole months his Sensei and mom had been going out. It felt both like it had been going on forever and like no time had passed at all. Regardless, it had been a rollercoaster of an experience to watch in real time. Miguel had observed as dine-out dates every other week had morphed into weekly dinners at the apartment. He’d liked that turn of events. It made it easy to imagine they were a normal family.

There had been a fortnight in October when it seemed like Sensei and his mother weren’t talking much. That had sent Miguel into a depressing pit of disappointment, wondering what had gone wrong, but neither of them would tell him anything other than to not worry about it; him, not worry, right. But then one night Sensei had shown up at their door to take his mom out dancing. Things had been going smoothly since, as far as he could tell.

“Here.”

Miguel had a split-second to react as his hands reflexively moved like lightning to catch the can of Coke Sensei Lawrence tossed at him. “Thanks,” he said, popping the tab and taking a fizzy gulp.

While Sensei Lawrence reached into the fridge for a drink of his own, Miguel’s eyes were drawn to a photo magnetized to the door. Another picture of Robby. A new one. A recent one. One of him and Sensei together somewhere. And before Miguel could rationalize it, he felt his stomach clench, and his throat had trouble swallowing the sip of Coke he’d taken. It tasted so bitter on his tongue, he almost spit it out.

_Don’t be dumb_ , his inner voice reprimand himself. He had no right to feel that clawing jealousy ripping at his insides. Surely it was a good thing that Sensei Lawrence was spending more time with his son, right? His real son. Especially considering how often he hadn’t been there for Robby growing up. It meant Sensei was trying to be a better parent. That was good, right? Miguel knew that. Really.

But his eyes lingered too long on that picture on the fridge, and he couldn’t resist noticing that Sensei Lawrence didn’t have any picture of him on it. Or anywhere in his apartment. 

_Because you’re not his son…._

Miguel rubbed the back of his neck and tried to collect himself. What was he, five? Was he seriously going to be envious over something juvenile like that? Like some needy little kid? He was almost seventeen. This sort of cloying need for validation, to be the parental favorite, shouldn’t he have outgrown that by now?

Then again, when had he ever had to compete for attention? He was an only child, after all. But it was different now than it had been when it was just his mom and Ya-Ya. He couldn’t explain _how_ it was different, but it was.

And how much more would it continue getting different the longer Sensei Lawrence and his mother continued dating? What if it went past dating? What if they tied the knot? Then he’d technically be Sensei’s son, too. Just like Robby. Sure, he would never be blood, but a stepson was as valid as the real deal, right?

Taking another big swig of Coke, Miguel told himself to stop fantasizing about what-ifs so much. And definitely stop being so damn insecure. It wasn’t a good look. It hadn’t been back when he’d been dating Sam and let his jealousy of Robby get the better hold of him then, and it still wasn’t a pretty look now.

“You think she’d be interested in seeing that new _Rocky_ movie?” asked Sensei Lawrence before opening the jug of orange juice in his hands and taking a hearty chug straight from it.

“Huh?” Miguel raised his eyebrows. “You mean the _Creed_ sequel? I’m not sure if she’s seen the first one or not. Actually, I don’t even know if she’s seen any of the original _Rocky_ movies. I could ask her, if you want.”

Sensei Lawrence shook his head, taking a second deep drink from the jug. “Nah, I’ll figure something out.” 

He had no doubt Sensei would. Still didn’t mean he couldn’t help him out a little though. “You should wear that black button-up shirt when you guys go out tonight,” said Miguel, trying to match his instructor’s nonchalant attitude about the whole thing. “She likes it.”

“Oh yeah?” asked Sensei Lawrence with a knowing smirk. He closed the refrigerator door, and Miguel was glad Sensei didn’t notice him glancing at the picture on it again.

After all, what would he say to Sensei Lawrence about it? _Please, Sensei, could you please tell me I mean as much to you as Robby?_ And what in the hell would Sensei even say to that? Hadn’t Sensei already told him he was on his side? Wasn’t Sensei there for him whenever he needed him? Wasn’t that enough?

A ping came from his pocket. Setting his Coke on the kitchen counter, Miguel pulled his phone out, welcoming the distraction from his green-eyed thoughts. A text from Hawk: _gonna stop by mcd’s first u want anything?_

Miguel smiled, typing back: _i wouldn’t turn down free nuggs & a small fry :P_

Hawk responded: _free huh? lol alright_

After thinking on it a second, Miguel then added: _can u also get my grandma a chzburger? i’ll get u cash when u get here_

Hawk again _: it’s cool i got it. but i get first dibs at the tv then_

Miguel pressed the thumb’s up emoji and texted: _sounds fair. see u soon_

* * *

As soon as he drove into Reseda, Hawk picked the first McDonald’s on the way to stop for food. He took one look at the line of cars wrapped around the drive-thru. “Screw that,” he muttered, driving into a spot to park and go inside. After ordering on the touchscreen menu, it didn’t take long for the employee at the register to call his number.

When Hawk handed over the cash, the guy eyed his red mohawk and told him, “Nice hair, bruh.”

Hawk jutted his chin out to acknowledge the compliment. It still made him swell a little on the inside to receive flattering remarks like that from random people. He couldn’t even remember the last time someone had stared at his scar. Who would’ve ever imagined? “Thanks, man,” he said, taking his bag of food and turning around to leave.

“Hawk.”

He stopped at the sound of his name, and his eyes scanned the tables for the source. They widened when they spotted it. “Mr. Kreese.”

Sitting in the booth closest to the door, John Kreese held a paper cup of black coffee in his hand. He had the shadow of a grin on his haggard face. “Just ‘mister’ now? Not ‘Sensei’ anymore?” he asked, raising his cup to take a drink.

Hawk didn’t know how to respond. There was a time when he would’ve been thrilled to see the old man. After Sensei Lawrence kicked his Sensei out of the dojo, Hawk assumed he’d never lay eyes on him again. Now he wished he hadn’t, because he heard Sensei Lawrence’s words ringing like shrill alarm bells in his head, reminding Hawk of the story he’d told him, about Sensei Kreese choking him out for having the gall to come in second place at the All-Valley Tournament.

Why did he have to choose this McDonald’s, of all the ones in the Valley? What sort of shitty luck was that?

Finishing what remained of his coffee, Sensei Kreese continued. “It’s alright, I understand. I may have founded Cobra Kai, but I’m sure Sensei Lawrence told you kids something about why I left.” He paused, like he expected Hawk to tell him everything Sensei Lawrence had said about booting him from Cobra Kai. But Hawk simply stood still, silent and paralyzed. So Sensei Kreese spoke up again. “How’s the class doing? You still at the top of it?”

“Where’ve you been?” The question spilled from his mouth before he could tell himself he should get out of the restaurant already. He hated himself for asking, but he was curious nonetheless.

“Oh, y’know, here and there,” answered Sensei Kreese with a vague roll of his shoulder, standing up from the booth. Hawk’s feet planted themselves to the ground against his will as the old man walked over to him, tossing his empty coffee cup in the trashcan by his side. “I’ve been picking up odd jobs, talking to the boys back in the military. You never really retire from the forces. They can still find uses for an old man, even if his star karate student thinks he’s now obsolete.”

Move forward or get stuck like cement. Hawk wished Sensei Lawrence was around right at that moment. But the only other people in the restaurant were the handful of customers eating their dinners, too wrapped up in their own conversations to take notice of them. “I-I should go,” he said, giving a half-bow on reflex. But Sensei Kreese had placed himself between him and the door.

“Despite me and Sensei Lawrence’s…disagreement, I hope he’s been training you well,” said Sensei Kreese. He reached out a hand and wrapped it over one of Hawk’s shoulders, giving it a firm squeeze. “Right from the start, I could always tell you had that original Cobra Kai material in you.”

A small smile crept up Hawk’s face before he could stop himself. It almost made him forget that the last time he’d seen Sensei Kreese, the King Cobra had given him the cold shoulder for losing at Coyote Creek. He found that, in spite of everything he now knew, he still missed those days when Sensei Kreese kept him company as he’d carried out his punishment in the dojo. He missed that attention.

How pathetic was that? How stupid could he possibly be?

Like a douse of ice water to the head, Hawk remembered he couldn’t believe anything Sensei Kreese was telling him, because he really didn’t mean what he was saying. He was a dangerous con-man. He was probably lying through his teeth right now. And it reminded Hawk of how easily he’d been duped before; it reminded him he couldn’t trust his own instincts.

Sensei Lawrence’s warning rang in his head again, louder this time: John Kreese’s Cobra Kai was a path that led to a dead end.

Suddenly the hand on his shoulder felt threatening. Hawk’s smile fell and he slunk back a couple of steps, motivating Sensei Kreese to remove it. 

The old man chuckled under his breath, like he'd amused him. He just stared at Hawk for a long minute, with his shrewd, cunning glare under a thick brow. He still had that tight-lipped grin on his face when he reached into the pockets of his jacket to retrieve a lighter and cigar. Shrugging his shoulder again, he turned on his feet and headed out the door. “See you around, kid.”

Hawk waited, watching out the glass door while Sensei Kreese took his time to light his cigar and blow a few, long puffs from it. Time dragged as Hawk stood there awkwardly holding his brown bag, staring out the door, moving only once to get out of the way of another customer. It made him feel small and weak. More Mousekowitz than Hawk.

Sensei Kreese took another drag of his cigar, breathing out grey smoke into the cool November air, and he gave Hawk one more glance from over his shoulder before walking away. Only then did Hawk leave, hustling to his car to finally get out of there.

* * *

Miguel reclined on the couch, playing with his phone and ignoring whatever was on the television while his mother walked over to grab her purse from the living room table. “Are you sure you don’t want me to make you something to eat to real quick?” she asked, giving a quick search inside her bag to make sure everything was in it that she’d need that night.

“Nah, Hawk’s bringing some McDonald’s over,” responded Miguel. “He’s also bringing Ya-Ya something from there, too, so you don’t have to worry about dinner for either of us.” Besides, he didn’t want his mom to risk messing up the nice yellow dress she’d chosen to wear. “Are you guys gonna be out late?”

“We’ll see,” said Carmen, stopping behind the couch to reach down and kiss the top of Miguel’s head. She shook her own with a smile when he ran a hand through his hair, as if to shoo her away. “He’s said tonight is dinner and a movie. Although, I suspect you already know that.”

Miguel couldn’t hide a guilty grin, even as he said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Uh-huh.” Carmen strolled over to the kitchen, where her mother was putting a kettle on the stove for tea.

Rosa’s eyes twinkled with mischief when she noticed the ensemble Carmen had put together that evening. “ _Ooh, trying to be extra foxy for Sensei tonight, are we?_ ” she joked, taking a mug out of the cupboard. “ _Sure you’re not planning on going dancing afterwards instead of the movies? With a dress like that, I’d expect less popcorn and more Salsa._ ”

Carmen gave her a look. “Remember, it’s dinner first. And he chose the place this time, a nice little Italian restaurant. I figured it would be appropriate to dress up nice for that, don’t you?”

Glancing at his phone screen, but not paying much attention to the Instagram video Mitch, Bert, and Edwin had posted, Miguel picked at this bottom lip for a nervous moment before asking his mother, “Hey, Mom, on your dates with Sensei, have you guys ever, like, talked about his kid?”

“You mean Robby?” asked Carmen for clarification. 

That answered that question. Of course they’d talked about him. “Yeah. Robby Keene.”

Carmen gazed across the room at the back of Miguel’s head, her eyebrows pinching together with mild concern. “Your Sensei’s brought him up two or three times, yes. I’ve known about his situation for a while. Is there something we need to talk about?”

Miguel’s head disappeared behind the cushion as he sunk down into the couch. “No, no, nothing to talk about,” he declined in a hurry. “I was just wondering, is all.” What he _really_ wondered about was what his Sensei had told his mother about Robby. Did he tell her the whole story, too? What about his recent attempts at reconciliation with his son? What about what that meant for Miguel?

“You sure?” Miguel could tell by the tone of her voice that she wasn’t buying it.

So he poked his head back up, turning around to give her an unassuming smile. “Yep. Just didn’t want you to be blindsided by that. Really. I mean, you’ve heard the stories, right? Some lady’s dating this guy for months and then bam! Turns out he’d been hiding this secret family from her the whole time. It’s pretty awful, when you think about it. Relationships really should be built on trust. So I’m glad Sensei told you. That’s all I was checking.” His mouth just kept running, putting even Demetri to shame. He didn’t even know what he was saying by the end of it.

Thankfully his mother looked more amused by his prattling than anything else, losing that twinge of concern from her features. “Alright, if you say so.” That was a close one. Why’d he even bring Robby up at all?

There came the expected knock at the door. Carmen smoothed a fold in her dress before answering. Her cheeks dimpled from her widening smile at seeing Johnny standing there in his nice slacks and black button-up shirt. She liked that particular shirt. It cut his figure well. “Hey,” she greeted, wrapping her purse strap over her shoulder.

“Hey,” returned Johnny, twirling the keys in his right hand, eyes scoping up her yellow dress. But the thing that caught his attention most was how she’d done her hair. He wanted to tell her she looked especially gorgeous that evening. It took most of his willpower to keep from letting the blood rush to his head and making him plant a deep kiss on her right there at the door. But he kept his cool. After all, Rosa and Miguel were in the vicinity. “You ready?” he asked instead.

“Ready if you are,” replied Carmen, a flirtatious curve to her words. Johnny liked what that inflection promised.

“ _You better make an honest woman out of her already and propose tonight_ ,” teased Rosa, strolling past where they stood at the door on her path to the hallway, poking him once on the chest as she did so.

None the wiser to what she’d said to him in Spanish, Johnny winked and shot her a finger-gun. “Thanks, I actually got this shirt at Macy’s.”

Rosa just shook her head and kept on walking, grinning ear to ear all the way to her bedroom.

Calling in the direction of the couch, Carmen told Miguel, “Alright, see you later tonight, Miggy.”

“Later!” Miguel called out. “Later, Sensei!” Sensei Lawrence jutted his chin to address his goodbye before both he and his mother left the apartment, closing the door behind them.

“We should stop by the cinema first, to get the tickets before dinner, just in case,” Carmen suggested while they started walking down the sidewalk together.

“Sounds like a plan.” Johnny almost thought about telling her how Miguel tried explaining that he could simply buy the tickets ahead of time on his smartphone, but once he got to talking about scanning barcodes, Johnny’s eyes glazed over and Miguel gave up. But that wouldn’t be an alpha thing to admit.

Besides, Johnny was more interested in taking pictures with his smartphone now, ever since he’d learned how to apply the filters. He looked forward to taking some great ones with Carmen that night and downloading them onto the Facebook. His last one even got eight likes.

Carmen looped her arm around his and gave him a coy glance. “So, what movie did you want to see?”

“I thought I’d let the lady decide for herself,” responded Johnny with a smirk, cocking his eyebrow. “There’s a few things showing at the theater right now you’d probably enjoy. You like _Rocky_ , right?”

Before Carmen could responded, the two of them stopped when a boy carrying a McDonald’s bag walked out of the parking lot in their direction. “Hello, Hawk,” said Carmen. “Miguel’s inside, go on in.”

“Thanks, Miss Diaz.” Hawk’s eyes flitted up to the man who had his arm entwined around hers. Should he tell him about his run-in with Sensei Kreese? He’d be interested in hearing that bit of news, wouldn’t he? He’d understand why the encounter had him feeling so weird. “Sensei?”

“Yeah?” From his tone, Sensei Lawrence sounded pretty impatient. That made sense. He was keeping them from their date.

Whatever. His story could wait until later. No point in ruining Sensei’s evening for something he couldn’t even do anything about right now. “Uh, nothing.”

Sensei Lawrence’s eyebrows furrowed for a fleeting moment, as though he suspected something was wrong. But it was Carmen who asked, “Is everything alright?”

Hawk strained to form a grin on his face. “Yeah, of course.” He walked past them, giving a peek over his shoulder once he reached the door to confirm they were on their way to get into Sensei’s Cobramobile. Then he turned the knob and called out, “Yo Miguel, your Grubhub’s here!”


	2. Calurus

Fast food boxes and wrappers cluttered the table in front of them, waiting to be tossed in the garbage. Miguel poked at them absent-mindedly with the socked feet he had reclined up on top of it. Hawk was flipping through channels again; nothing seemed to catch his attention. Miguel wondered how many times he’d flip through them before picking something already.

Although, Miguel doubted any channel would hold his attention either. He was too entrapped in his thoughts to concentrate on much anything else.

Hawk had his arm wrapped around his shoulders, but so far other than that he hadn’t initiated anything more intimate. Miguel supposed he could’ve been the bold one that evening, but after his anxiety had torn up his insides earlier, he’d been hoping Hawk would pick up on it and be more affectionate. But then, Hawk always did have trouble reading between the lines.

Sighing, Miguel leaned more into Hawk, resting his head on his collarbone. That at least got the hand on his shoulder to brush its fingers along the sleeve of his upper arm. But it was hardly the reaction he’d been hoping for. Next he tried tracing a finger of his own along Hawk’s shirt collar, even giving it a little tug. Still nothing. Surely they’d been together long enough for Hawk to recognize if he was being a little needy that night, right?

Well, Miguel wasn’t going to come out and say it in such blatant terms. So he tried paying attention to what was on the television again. Pretty difficult to do when Hawk wouldn’t settle on a channel for more than twenty seconds at a time. It was beginning to grate on Miguel’s nerves. He was about to suggest they put it on some trashy talk show, where fucked-up people aired their dirty business with even more fucked-up people in front of a studio audience. It might put his own problems into perspective.

Instead he said, “Doesn’t look like anything good’s on. Wanna watch some Netflix?”

“Huh?” Hawk blinked and looked down at him like he’d been yanked from somewhere distant. “What’d you say?”

Miguel’s brows creased. Had Hawk been paying any attention at all? “I said, do you want to switch to Netflix? You’ve flipped through all the channels, like, a dozen times already.”

“If you want,” said Hawk, dropping the remote in Miguel’s lap. 

Picking it up, Miguel switched on the app. “Alright, but since you’re conceding your right to first pick, that means I get to watch whatever I want and you can’t raise any objections.” He said it in a teasing way, to see if he could get a small rise out of him, but Hawk only shrugged in response. 

He didn’t even have anything to say when Miguel selected _My Hero Academia_. That was weird. Even if Hawk had gotten less uptight about watching what he deemed to be “nerd shit” over the previous couple months, he usually had some smartass remark to make about it before he settled down to watch; and secretly enjoy it in all probability. But nothing this time.

“Did I tell you Sensei forced me to hand over the password to our Netflix?” Miguel asked, attempting to get more of a response from the boy against him. He felt Hawk shrug. “Yeah, as soon as he learned about all the movies he could watch, he strong-armed me into setting it up on his TV. But hey, he’s the one who scored us this nice little flatscreen, so I didn’t see the harm. And I warned him that Ya-Ya’s gonna see everything he watches.”

Hawk rolled his shoulders again. “Yeah.”

Did Hawk even want to be here? Miguel frowned, but then shoved that worry out of his head. Maybe Hawk was preoccupied with something else. 

Miguel wished he’d occupy himself more with _him_ , though. 

He brought a hand up to touch the one on his upper arm. It gave a faint squeeze back, as if on reflex. “Mom and Sensei are probably gonna be out pretty late,” Miguel murmured in a lower voice, eyeing Hawk from where he lied against him. “I was thinking we could….” He let his idea linger, inviting Hawk to fill in the blanks for himself.

It took Hawk a long minute to realize he wasn’t going to finish the sentence. His mouth twitched. “Could what?”

Was Hawk being obtuse on purpose? Usually he was the one full of innuendos. Whatever was going on in Hawk’s head at that moment, Miguel figured if he wanted some doting, he needed to be the one to make a move. After all, how much more obvious could he have been with his suggestions?

He paused when his Ya-Ya walked out of the hallway, eating the McDonald’s apple pie Hawk had brought her straight from the box. She only gave them a cursory glance before pulling a bottle of water from the fridge.

As soon as she returned to her bedroom and was out of sight, Miguel decided to take the initiative. Turning his head, he reached up his hand to hold Hawk’s jaw and pull him into a kiss. He heard Hawk grunt in surprise, which he interpreted as a pleasant surprise and kissed him deeper for it. He all but rolled on top of him on the couch, wrapping his other hand around his waist to pull him closer. The contact felt good. When they got like this, the warmth of their close proximity sent his lingering insecurities flying for the time being, because all that mattered then was who would break the kiss first and whose hands were wandering where.

But then Hawk pushed him off, brushing his hands away. “Don’t,” he said. Miguel slumped on the couch, cheeks burning; whether from embarrassment or irritation or something else entirely, he was too dazed to know then. Hawk looked almost guilty when he re-situated himself, crossing his arms over his chest and turning his eyes back to the television. “Not right now.”

What was Miguel supposed to make of _that_? “Okay, sure,” he muttered as he caught his breath, crossing his own arms and hunching his shoulders, sinking more into the cushion.

* * *

The waitress returned to their table, carrying a tray with their drinks and a basket of breadsticks. Setting down a glass of beer and glass of wine in front of them, she then pulled out the notepad from her back pocket, prepared to take their orders. “Have you two decided what you’d like?”

“I’ll have the wild mushroom agnolotti, with porcini alfredo cream sauce,” said Carmen.

“Excellent choice,” remarked the waitress, writing it down. “And you, sir?”

Johnny eyed the menu again, too embarrassed to admit he barely understood the Italian names for the fancy dishes anymore than he could find his way around a Latin menu. So rather, he caved and told the waitress, “Uh, spaghetti and meatballs, with the red tomato sauce.”

The waitress wrote down his order and walked away with their menus. Carmen smiled at him from across the table, taking a sip of her wine. Downing a gulp of beer, Johnny wondered if she suspected anything and was just being too polite to say something; much like how she hadn’t corrected him that it was pronounced _pollo_ taco, not pol-lo. 

He wished he could be a little classier for her sake. Or at least brush up more on his Spanish. And Italian, too, apparently. He should have chosen a burger joint instead, he would’ve been more in his element there. Then again, Carmen had seen him in his element plenty, for better or worse.

“So, Miguel asked about Robby today,” Carmen stated without buildup or fanfare, unfolding her napkin and laying it on her lap.

The bite of the breadstick Johnny had taken went down like a rock. He helped it with another drink of beer. “He did?” he asked after swallowing it. “Something wrong?”

Carmen noted his body language, how his shoulders tensed, and the look that came over his face suggesting he was trying too hard to not give anything away. She could appreciate how awkward the subject must’ve been to broach, but she wasn’t one to shy away from what needed to be discussed.

“Not necessarily wrong, but I think Miguel is worried about…how would you put it?” She paused for a few seconds, twisting the napkin in her lap as she attempted to find the right way to phrase what her son was undoubtedly feeling in this tricky scenario, even though he’d done everything to try and convince her it wasn’t bothering him. But she knew. She always knew when something was bothering Miguel, ever since he was a little boy. “Miguel’s probably concerned that this relationship between you and Robby might affect the one he has with you.”

Scratching the back of his neck, Johnny glanced at his glass of beer, resisting the urge to take another big swig from it for liquid courage. Only one glass tonight, he reminded himself. Make it last. “Miguel knows he can come to me for anything.”

“He’s used to seeing you as his teacher,” said Carmen. “And he trusts you in that way. I do, too. But Miguel isn’t used to having a father.” There were hints of an untold story in the way she said her words, with that inflection in her voice. More information concerning her husband, they promised. But Johnny didn’t ask about that story. He figured Carmen would tell him what he needed to know when he needed to know, in her own time. 

“Technically I’m not his….” He didn’t need to finish the sentence. He didn’t even know if he could find it within himself to say the last word. He felt like he had a wedge of half-chewed bread stuck in the back of his throat just thinking about it. So he caved and took another drink from his beer. Down to half a glass now, and the main course wasn’t even out yet. Pathetic.

Carmen nodded. “I know. And he knows, too. And I’m not asking you to be. Not yet, anyways.” She gave him a playful wink. 

Her date was grateful for the attempt at lightening the mood. Johnny curved the corners of his mouth into a smirk. And he took another bite of a breadstick to keep from admitting he’d already thought about it once or twice. Too soon for that.

She continued. “But this arrangement, us together, I believe it’s blurring the line for him. I just want to make sure you’re aware of that, is all.”

Johnny didn’t know how to respond, but he was spared from having to find his words for a few minutes when the waitress brought out their meals. Of all the ways their discussion could have turned over dinner, he didn’t expect it to go down this road. But he supposed a talk like this was inevitable. It would’ve happened sooner or later, the longer they dated. And leave it to Carmen to throw him in the deep end and deal with it, whether he was ready to or not.

After a few bites of her food, Carmen asked, “By the way, how _is_ Robby?”

Johnny twirled some of his spaghetti around his fork. “He’s fine.” Carmen stared at him as she continued eating, expecting more from him than that. “Seems to be catching up at school okay. No calls from the principal’s office anymore. Last week he even told me he’s got a couple A’s in his classes.” Johnny paused a moment, eyeing his beer again. “He still spends most of his time at LaRusso’s when he’s not at school, from what I hear.” He stuffed the forkful of spaghetti in his mouth and chewed it hard.

“Are things better between him and his mother?” Carmen caught herself and bit her bottom lip. She’d hoped to avoid stepping into the landmine field with Johnny bringing up Daniel LaRusso, only to stumble into another field entirely. “Sorry if that’s a personal family matter.”

Swallowing the mouthful of food, Johnny shrugged his shoulder. “As far as I know, things are okay.” He didn’t want to go into too much detail. He may have blabbed about Shannon’s stay in rehab one drunken, embarrassing night, but Johnny figured it wasn’t his place to be broadcasting her business in the open like that, especially in front of Carmen. Especially considering all the hard work Shannon was putting into improving things for her and Robby. She was a lot further ahead in that regard than he was, after all.

Carmen smiled. “I’m glad to hear that.”

Johnny stared at his food for a couple minutes while Carmen continued eating. “Hey, about Robby and Miguel,” he began, stringing his thoughts together so they resembled something coherent. “I hear what you’re saying. And I just want to let you know, I’m not going to let them down, either of them. Miguel doesn’t have anything to worry about. He’s….” Johnny paused again, furrowing his brows. “I wouldn’t be where I am now without Miguel. If he needs more from me, he’ll have it. I promise.”

Across the table, Carmen nodded again. “Okay. Maybe you and Miguel should have a talk about it when we get back?”

“Yeah.” Johnny never expected things to become so complicated over the past year. He was used to being a failure as a father to Robby, a source of unending shame for him. It was becoming the Sensei Miguel needed him to be that motivated him to try and be a better father to Robby in the first place.

And as soon as he thought he was starting to get a hang of the Sensei thing, he learned he’d let Hawk slip through the cracks, right under his nose. It reminded him he didn’t simply have a responsibility to Robby and Miguel anymore, but a whole dojo full of kids. That was a lot to juggle, and Johnny never did learn how to juggle all that well, not even during that brief period of time as a kid when he’d wanted to be a magician. 

But how long could he keep up that excuse?

“Y’know, I used to think about my old Sensei the same way,” he admitted, poking the spaghetti on the plate with his fork. He regretted letting those words come out. They should have remained buried, along with the second chance he’d given his Sensei. No taking them back now though.

With a sip of wine, Carmen raised an eyebrow. “Really? Miguel mentioned a few months ago you had an assistant teacher for a while but he ended up leaving. Was that him? What was his name, Sensei Grease?”

“Kreese,” Johnny corrected, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. “Yeah, that was him.”

Carmen wiped the corner of her mouth with the napkin. “And what happened?” she asked, sounding genuinely curious.

“Things didn’t work out.” What else was he going to say? That he brought Kreese back into his dojo against his better judgment, actively endangering the wellbeing of his students by leaving them alone with him, just so he might have a second shot at reconnecting with the man he most considered a father? 

What would Carmen think of him then? Here she was, asking him to step up and be more of a father-figure for Miguel. What would she say if he admitted he risked not only Miguel’s safety, but every kid's at Cobra Kai, because he hadn’t bothered telling them the truth? Kreese had almost gotten to Hawk. How would Carmen feel if she learned about what happened there?

All that trust she’d placed in him would evaporate into dust, wouldn’t it?

She must have picked up the hint that he didn’t want to talk about the subject further, because all she said next was, “I’m sorry about that.”

“Yeah. Me, too.” Johnny ate another meatball. Should he tell her more, be more honest? He knew there were no do-overs, but if he explained how things had been between him and Kreese, perhaps she'd understand why there was that doubt still inside of him, that voice telling him that despite what he told her earlier, he was _never_ going to be the man _any_ of his kids needed him to be; and why that voice sounded so much like Sensei Kreese.

God, only a wangless loser would admit to that. Was there a way to word it so he didn't come across like such a ballsless jackass looking to make excuses?

But as he opened his mouth to say more, the lights above them flickered and they both heard the clattering of a tray of plates being dropped.

* * *

Hawk forced his eyes to stare harder at the television screen, as if that would make him concentrate on it better, like the electronic visuals would replace the images flying through his head. He kept rolling his shoulder back without hardly realizing it. It felt like a phantom hand was still squeezing it, and the feeling made his skin crawl.

He was confused. He felt twisted up inside and didn’t understand why. He shouldn’t have been letting his run-in with Sensei Kreese take up so much of his headspace. He wished he’d went ahead and told Sensei Lawrence earlier when he had the chance. Then it would be off his chest, at least.

Perhaps he should’ve told his parents about the whole thing with Sensei Kreese from the very start, so he could text them about it. The particulars didn’t seem necessary before, not after how close they’d been to pulling him from Cobra Kai. The closest he came to telling anybody was when he confessed to his therapist about how much he hated people playing head games with him. But all she tried to do was blame it on his autism, saying it wasn’t his fault he had trouble picking up other people’s deception. 

Hawk knew better. He remembered how he’d thrived off any compliment Sensei Kreese gave him, how he would’ve done anything for the old man’s approval, just so he could keep feeling special. But what was so special about him? 

He’d started fidgeting with his fingers in his lap without realizing it, and forced himself to stop. His eyes drifted over to Miguel. He looked so lonely. Hawk’s shoulders slumped this time, realizing at that moment how much of a drag he must have been ever since he got to the apartment. Why was he letting this shit ruin their time together?

Hawk scooted closer to Miguel on the couch, a faint smile belying what was going on inside his head. “Hey, sorry about acting like a dork earlier,” he said, resting a hand on Miguel’s arm.

“It’s cool, you don’t have to apologize,” returned Miguel, lifting his eyes from the television to look at him. “Everything good?”

“Yeah. Just thinking about some things, no big deal,” Hawk muttered vaguely. He saw the way Miguel arched an inquisitive eyebrow. Not wanting that to become the attention of their evening, he snaked his arm back around Miguel’s shoulders, inviting him for more contact, which Miguel reciprocated. He would rather have the focus be on whatever was going on in Miguel’s head, rather than his own. Something must’ve been going on, because Miguel was being a little clingy. “So what’s up with you tonight? Did you just want to make out or do the boring thing and talk about it?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. 

Miguel grinned, but rather than take up the first proposal, he rested his head back onto Hawk’s collarbone. “I dunno. I was at Sensei’s earlier. He had this new pic on his fridge of him and Robby.”

Hawk rolled his shoulders. “So?”

Miguel’s jaw clenched for a second. He tried explaining, “I thought maybe he’d, y’know, have one of me by now. I mean, one of all of us from Cobra Kai.”

“Why don’t you just ask him?” asked Hawk. Wasn’t that the suggestion Miguel always gave him whenever he had an issue with Sensei Lawrence?

“ _How_ would I ask him?” pressed Miguel. He really wanted to know, because he was driving himself crazy over this, over what didn’t seem to be that big a deal when he took a minute to step back and look from it the outside. 

“This isn’t really about some pic of us from Cobra Kai, is it? It’s about Robby being his kid and not you.” Hawk put it so bluntly, cutting to the core of it. 

Well, it wasn’t the first time Miguel had voiced his concerns on the subject to him. Ever since he saw that first soccer pic of Robby on the refrigerator and learned that Sensei had a secret kid, the shock of it never completely wore off. This recent event reminded him of that initial blow.

All Miguel could do was nod. 

Hawk wished he could give Miguel the advice he needed to hear. The last time he brought up Robby Keene, he attempted to reassure him with the fact that if Sensei and his mother ever decided to take the next step and get married, then Miguel would be upgraded to son status. That hadn’t persuaded him. Miguel would need to hear it from Sensei Lawrence, not him.

It was obvious to anyone with eyes that Sensei Lawrence and Miguel were already like father and son. Hawk didn’t know why that wasn’t clear to Miguel, why what he had with Sensei now wasn’t enough. But insecurities worked that way, didn’t they? They weren’t rational. They pricked like needles under one’s fingernail; the cause of the problem may have been small, but it hurt like hell nonetheless.

They could convince Miguel, despite everything to the contrary, that he wasn’t good enough. Hawk could never quite understand how Miguel, of all people, couldn’t see how special he was.

“Sorry, I’m probably overthinking things again, aren’t I?” sighed Miguel. He did too much of that. Way too much.

Hawk furrowed his brows. He looked so confused. He tried wracking his brain for the right words to placate Miguel’s anxieties. If he could just find the right words, then he could make Miguel feel better. Too bad he wasn’t a man of words.

Perhaps his mind literally blew a fuse trying to find them, because, all of a sudden, the television turned off with a hum, and the lights dimmed before leaving the apartment in pitch darkness.

“What the hell? Why’d the power go out?” muttered Hawk, sitting up in a flash.

Miguel groaned, rubbing his hands down his face in frustration. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his cellphone and turned on the flashlight app, illuminating their immediate area. He stood up, leaving Hawk on the couch while he walked over to the kitchen. Flipping the light switch on-and-off to verify that wouldn’t help, he then cracked open the door to glance outside. 

No lights brightened the sidewalk. All the other windows were dark. Blackness shrouded the entire apartment complex. And not only their building. When Miguel took a couple of steps outside, holding up his phone, he couldn’t find a single street or building light in the nearest distance; only the lights from cars driving on the street. As far as he could tell, all of Reseda had powered down at once.

Great. Just great. “A blackout. Fantastic.”


	3. Harlani

His Ya-Ya retrieved the two flashlights they kept in the utility closet, giving one to Miguel while keeping the other for herself. At least the batteries still worked. Miguel was grateful they’d had those tucked away in case of an emergency. Especially since it meant he could save the juice on his phone.

Hawk was standing in the living room, talking to his parents on his own cell. While Miguel could only overhear half the conversation, all the “Yes, Mom”s and “I know”s told him plenty. It made him glad his mom was no helicopter parent. All he’d had to do was text her what was going on. She told him things were the same at the restaurant, that the blackout affected them, too, and to be a little cautious in the meantime. Other than that, no panic. She trusted him.

“My parents said the power’s out in Encino, too,” Hawk told him after ending the call. 

“I suspected that when they called you, like, five minutes after the lights went out. Wanna take bets about which part of the Valley they’ll get back up running first?” Miguel half-joked.

Hawk snorted. “Well, you’re not wrong. But my parents don’t want me driving until the street lights are back on.”

“No big,” said Miguel with a casual shrug. “Things should be up again in a couple hours, tops. Maybe even sooner. I mean, that’s what I’m hoping, ‘cause my phone’s got, like, thirty percent left. Probably should’ve charged it while we were chilling.”

“ _This is nothing_ ,” quipped Rosa as she walked through the kitchen to inspect the freezer. “ _One time, when I was growing up in Ecuador, we lost power and didn’t get it back up for two whole weeks. You kids would go crazy if you had to go more than a day without your electronics._ ”

Hawk glanced at Miguel for a translation. He just shrugged again and summarized under his breath in a loud whisper, “Boomer tirade.” 

His Ya-Ya shined her flashlight over her shoulder and at his face. “ _I heard that_ ,” she warned before turning around and shutting the freezer door. “ _Well I hope it doesn’t take more than a few hours. Otherwise, someone’s going on an ice run. Anyways, I’m heading back to my room. Gonna play sudoku on my phone, I guess. Ah, and I was just in the middle of my soap, too. Great episode. That bastard Santiago was about to get what was coming to him, the creep. These things always happen at the worst time._ ”

While she went back to her room, Miguel thought about translating all of that, but Hawk had stopped paying attention. He was busy scrolling through his phone. 

“Hey, check this out,” he said, holding up the screen to show Miguel the Instagram pics and videos their friends were uploading. Aisha, Tory, Mitch, and some of the other guys were all posting about the blackout; so a lot of pitch-dark images of kids front-lit by flashlights. “I’m gonna let them know what’s up here,” said Hawk, snagging a quick pic of them together. 

Miguel grinned and shook his head. What, was everyone going to treat this as some sort of forced campout at home? Well, best to make the best out of a bad situation. “Might as well go wait in my room,” suggested Miguel, motioning with his thumb in the direction.

Even from the dim glow of the flashlight illuminating his face, Hawk could detect that smile on him that left other things unsaid. But still. Miguel didn’t have to invite him twice. 

It took only a minute for the absolute silence in the bedroom, sans their breathing, to weird Hawk out. “Let’s play some music,” he said, pulling his cellphone out of his pocket again to flip through his iTunes selections.

“Sure, if you want,” said Miguel, going to sit on his bed. It was Hawk’s battery life. “But don’t play it too loud or you’re going to get Ya-Ya checking in on us.” And he wanted some privacy. That was the entire reason he'd shut the door behind them.

Selecting a playlist to serve as background noise, Hawk noted, “Yeah, nothing would kill the mood quicker than that.” He set his phone on Miguel’s nightstand and sat down beside him.

“Speaking of moods, sorry for being such a downer before,” said Miguel. He maneuvered the comforter, making a spot to lay the flashlight so they could see each other without him having to hold the thing. “I guess it was pretty dumb to worry about something like that.” Blood rushed under his skin, warming it in sudden self-consciousness. It embarrassed him, thinking about the way he’d been acting all day, first with Sensei, then with his mother, and now with Hawk. It made him feel like a little kid. 

“You want me to go break into Sensei’s apartment and rip up his pic of Robby, to make you feel better? Maybe steal a couple of his beers while I’m at it?” Miguel’s eyes flew up to Hawk’s face and he opened his mouth to protest. But Hawk beat him to it, his grin widening. “Just joking, man.”

Miguel kind of laughed. “Real funny.”

“Look, don’t worry so much about Sensei and Keene,” assured Hawk, picking up from where they’d left off before the blackout hit. “Come on, no more of that. This drama between them’s been going on way before you and Sensei met, right? Whatever their story’s about, it’s not your problem.”

Miguel wanted those words to sink in, but the truth was that it _was_ his problem. “It kinda is, though.” He couldn’t hold Hawk’s blasé dismissal against him, though. To him, Robby Keene was little more than a rival from Miyagi-Do who became a thorn in his side from time to time. But to Miguel, he was more than a karate rival. This was the guy who could very well end up being his stepbrother if things continued on the path they were traveling.

There was a tug-of-war going on inside him. The selfish part of him didn’t want to share Sensei at all with Robby, and that intemperance made him feel guilty, because he was better than that. Or at least he should’ve been. Where did this selfish impulse come from? How could he make it go away? He didn’t exactly like what it could do to him. After all, hadn’t it ended up costing him his relationship with Sam?

Was that part of it? Was he worried this possessive streak of his could cost him what he had with Sensei, too, if he pushed it? Especially since he knew he had no stake to claim compared to a biological son? He’d shown a real ugly side of himself when he’d confronted Sam over her treatment of Robby versus him. What if he talked to Sensei Lawrence and _he_ decided it was either/or, just like Miguel had tried forcing Sam’s hand? And who did Miguel really think Sensei would choose if push came to shove?

Yeah. Maybe that was part of it. But not all of it.

There was also a nagging voice whispering in the back of his mind. A voice that told him if Sensei dropped the ball that hard on being a dad for Robby, what was stopping him from doing the same thing to him eventually?

Hawk pulled Miguel from that terrible thought when he ran his fingertips along his neck, down to his collarbone. “Okay, but it doesn’t have to be your problem tonight,” he said. 

This was the affection Miguel had wanted. Something he didn’t have to compete against Robby for. He let himself relax, let himself be drawn into it. He leaned forward and kissed Hawk, less feverishly than he had prior on the couch. When Hawk showed to be more receptive this time, his next kiss was a bit more excited, the next one even more so. 

Hawk’s hand slid down his side before resting on his waist. Miguel returned the gesture. He took one more look at Hawk’s face before switching off the flashlight, leaving them in total darkness.

* * *

“I just texted Miguel. The blackout hit Reseda, too,” announced Carmen, illuminated by the light on her phone as she strolled up to join Johnny where he stood by the Cobramobile in the dark restaurant parking lot. 

Johnny twirled the car keys in one hand, tapping the fingers of the other against the hood. Well this night was a complete bust. “Guess the tickets were a waste of money,” he muttered. So much for getting a little too cozy with each other in the back row of the movie theater and tasting salty popcorn on each other’s mouths. 

She smiled before reaching up to kiss him. It was a light kiss. A sympathetic kiss. A far cry from the type Johnny had been hoping they would share later in the controlled darkness of a cinema. “The movie theater might be understanding, considering the circumstances,” Carmen pointed out, walking over to the passenger side. “Maybe we can exchange them for another night.”

“Yeah, maybe.” 

“I guess we might as well head to the apartments.” Carmen sounded as disappointed as he felt. “Do you feel safe to drive?” 

Johnny was about to remark that he’d only had one beer at dinner until he put two and two together and realized she was talking about how comfortable he was driving with the street lights out. Duh. “Yeah, of course,” he said, squaring his shoulders back. He’d driven in much worse conditions before, without the advantage of being sober, and he always came out of it in one piece. 

Carmen nodded, staring at him from over the hood of the car. He wished he could see her eyes better. She had the most mesmerizing eyes. “It was still a nice dinner. I enjoyed it.”

His mouth curved up in return. That was good, at least. “Me, too.” 

They got into the car and drove off. Everything was slower, as people on the road took more precautions while driving. With the traffic lights darkened, intersections became agonizingly slow four-ways, with each car in each lane getting their own turn, one at a time. Things got no better when they turned on the main road that would get them back to Reseda. Cars were moving at a snail’s pace.

Johnny thought about busting a move to swerve around the vehicles, but Carmen’s presence stilled his reckless impulse. After all, he didn’t want to risk doing something that might get her hurt, especially when the lack of working street lights made it harder to see. And it ended up not mattering anyway, because not ten minutes passed before they found themselves stuck smack in the middle of gridlock. 

Rolling down her window, Carmen leaned over in her seat and stuck her head out in an effort to peer around the line of cars. No good, everything was backed up too far to see anything. Her voice got serious as she said, “I wonder if there was an accident.” 

“Probably. You know how some people drive like assholes no matter what the conditions are like,” commented Johnny, like he hadn’t just contemplated being that same asshole. He relaxed in his seat and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. 

Whatever it was, Carmen hoped it wasn’t a bad accident. As a nurse in the x-ray technician’s office, she saw the horrific consequences of car crashes almost every day at the hospital. But there was nothing she could do about it here. “It looks like we’re going to be backed up for a while.” She pulled her phone out of her purse and shot a quick text to let her son and mother know they were being delayed for the time being. 

When five minutes ticked by and they’d only inched about twenty feet, Johnny knew “a while” was going to be an understatement; they could probably walk home faster. 

He continued drumming his fingers to the beat of AC/DC’s “Thunderstruck” playing through the speakers. His mind drifted to their talk at the restaurant, about Robby, about Miguel, and, most especially, about Kreese. “You like this song?” he asked, wanting to say something about anything except what was going through his brain at that moment.

Carmen nodded. “It’s very you, isn’t it?” She smiled again. And her smile made Johnny want to open up about things. It made him feel like doing something dangerous. Something vulnerable. All the Diazes seemed to bring it out of him. Especially Carmen. Especially when she had that look in her eyes.

He should have kept listening to the music. “Hey, back at the restaurant, that thing I said about my old Sensei….”

Carmen tilted her head, inviting him to continue. “Yes?”

Johnny licked his lips once, looking at her, then at the traffic, then back at her. His mouth had gone dry. “You should probably know. I made a mistake, letting him be my assistant in the class. He, uh, he wasn’t an honorable man.”

Carmen's inviting smile faltered. Her dark brows creased, with hints of both worry and distrust. She didn’t like the way Johnny worded that. And her mind raced a mile a minute with what he could’ve possibly meant by it. “Did something happen? Did he hurt anyone?”

Johnny frowned, glancing out the window at the traffic again. He didn’t want to see the look on her face when he told her. “No. Well, kinda. I mean, no, nobody got hurt, it wasn’t like that.” He wasn’t explaining himself very well. He could feel her gaze digging into him, which was only digging himself in deeper.

“Explain to me then,” said Carmen, a firmness to her voice. “What was it like?”

Releasing the break for a moment to inch along with the slow traffic, Johnny searched the deep well of his thoughts to pull out his words. Why in the hell did he bring this back up? The blackout had given him a clear to run away from that topic at the restaurant. But then again, hadn’t that been his tactic for too long? Slithering away whenever things got tough, as he’d done for decades. What sort of Cobra was he? More importantly, what kind of man did he want to be for her?

“Things between him and me didn’t end so great when I was younger,” explained Johnny. “But then he showed up out of nowhere after the Tournament, asking for a second chance. I took him at his word. I shouldn’t have, because it turns out he hadn’t changed at all. As soon as he saw the chance, he started teaching the kids to fight dirty, just like he did to us.”

Carmen discretely twisted her fingers in her lap, and her lips pinched while she tried to make sense of what he was saying. “Did you not notice it was happening?”

“Not while I was around him. But then one day some of my old friends called me up. One of them was really sick. We all wanted to hang out one more time before he…well, he ended up passing away. I was gone for a week dealing with that. I left Kreese in charge of the kids in the meantime. I guess I knew I really shouldn’t have.” He stopped for a moment to drive farther, to consider his next words. “It was only when I got back that I figured out what was really going on.”

“If you didn’t completely trust him, why would you take that chance?” demanded Carmen. Inside she felt a stirring of maternal protectiveness so sharp that it stung. Miguel’s behavior after the All-Valley Tournament had concerned her, and Johnny had promised her he wouldn’t ever do anything that could lead him off the right path. Now he was admitting he’d slipped on that promise. Who was he to gamble with the wellbeing of not only her son but all the other kids’ as well? Was she not entitled to that feeling of betrayal prickling her at the moment?

“This guy was the closest thing to a father I ever had. I _wanted_ to believe him when he said he was looking to change.” Johnny gripped the steering wheel. It felt like he was just making excuses now. “I know I messed up, I’m sorry. And I’m sorry for not telling you about it before now.” How could he begin to explain to her the hold his old Sensei still had over him without sounding like he was trying to shift the blame? 

She didn’t say anything. Carmen looked out the window, away from him, going silent for a while. Johnny didn’t blame her. He considered droning on, explaining more, telling her how when he thought he’d finally seen the last of Kreese, it turned out his Sensei had been doing slimy things behind his back to try and pull the rug out from under him.

Who knows what would’ve happened if he hadn’t picked up on the trail and confronted Zakarian on it and finally agreed to sign his stupid contract? He could have lost his whole dojo. Kreese could have stolen everything. How could he confess to Carmen how much that possibility had horrified him?

Right now he didn’t have it in him to try. So he turned up the volume and listened to the music again, following the slow-moving traffic as it continued inching along, slower than ever, on the dark road ahead of them.

* * *

The music from Hawk’s phone masked their heightened breathing while hands kept grabbing for purpose in the dark, cradling jaws, running along sides, up shirts, anywhere they needed them to be. Miguel was greedy, unapologetically so. No sooner would Hawk pull away from a kiss, then Miguel would take another from him. And Hawk let him have them.

With each kiss, he hoped he could override the insecurities plaguing Miguel, that they would tell him he _was_ good enough, no matter what anyone else said. It made Hawk feel strong and important, like he could be that bedrock for Miguel, to show him how special he was, when even Sensei couldn’t. And Hawk _wanted_ to feel that way.

When they broke apart again, a smile curled up the corner of Hawk’s mouth. “Feeling better now?” he asked, tracing his fingers through Miguel’s hair.

Miguel wanted to say yes, and it wouldn’t be a total lie if he did. Because this was nice, and it was what he’d wanted ever since Hawk arrived at the apartment. But, deep down, those problems of his hadn’t gone away. They lingered below the surface, below the elation he felt from this close moment. This was great, but it wasn’t a solution, as much as he’d hoped it would be. So he had no answer to give, opting for nothing more than an empty sigh as an answer.

The thought-filled silence to his question made Hawk’s grin fall, and he narrowed his eyes. He swallowed hard. Something sunk deep into his gut. Of course he couldn’t make Miguel feel better on his own. Why did he think he could? Why did he continue acting so stupid?

He sat up on the bed, untangling Miguel’s arms from where they’d been wrapped around him. He hated that he couldn’t do anything right, and raged at himself for it. First he’d been dumb enough to actually listen to Sensei Kreese, despite knowing better. Now he was helpless to help his boyfriend feel better while he was down. He wished the street lights were back on, so he could just go home.

He heard Miguel sigh again as he sat up, too, and then his hand was around his shoulder, pulling him closer to him. “No, don’t take it that way,” Miguel muttered, pressing a light kiss under his ear. “Yes, I _am_ feeling better.” He gave Hawk’s shoulder a firm squeeze to reaffirm his statement.

There was that phantom hand again. Hawk pushed it away irately.

“Hey!” Miguel exclaimed on reflex, surprised by the rebuff. He felt around blindly for the flashlight on the bed and switched it back on. He expected to see a look of irritation on Hawk’s face, and would even grant it might’ve been a little earned by this point. But he looked more ill than angry. “Hey, are you okay?”

No, he wasn’t. He felt nauseous. And the light was hurting his eyes.

Hawk grabbed the flashlight out of Miguel’s hand and turned it off again, pulling them back into pitch darkness. “I ran into Sensei Kreese earlier today,” he blurted out.

Of all the things Miguel thought might come out of Hawk’s mouth, that didn’t rank high on the list. “What? Where?”

“At the Mickey D’s, before I came here,” Hawk explained.

Miguel furrowed his brows. He hadn’t thought about the King Cobra in a long time. He assumed Sensei’s Sensei was out of the picture for good, and could only think to ask, “Did you tell Sensei?”

“No.”

Sensei Lawrence would definitely want to know, Miguel knew that for sure. Why hadn’t Hawk told him? Then again, maybe he hadn’t had a chance. His mom and Sensei had left right before Hawk arrived, when would he have had the time? “Did Mr. Kreese say anything?”

It was the way Miguel phrased that question that made Hawk catch his previous slip, how he’d called the old man ‘Sensei’ again. He hadn’t even meant to. It made his fists tighten where they rested on his knees. “He just asked how my training was going since Sensei kicked him out.” He hesitated a moment before adding, “He said I was original Cobra Kai material.”

Original Cobra Kai material? What a laugh. And that was probably what Sensei Kreese was doing in his head when he told him that, knowing he’d be stupid enough to believe it. A stupid loser. 

And worse than being a loser, he was also a coward. Because he was scared. Afraid he couldn’t trust himself anymore, in his senses, his instincts. Because all of them had told him he could trust Sensei Kreese to make him strong. Instead all Sensei Kreese had done was offer kindness in order to touch the dark anger inside him.

Anger. Yeah. Anger felt great. There was safety in anger, and Sensei Kreese had understood that. Sensei Kreese had taught him to be prepared for violence at every turn, and that tracked with everything Hawk had learned growing up. Enemies were always out to get you, and it was on you to never be unprepared for them again. And the best protection was anger.

But it hadn’t protected him against Sensei Kreese at all. 

Sitting beside Hawk, hearing the breaths he was taking in, even over the faint noise of his music still playing, Miguel had a difficult time thinking about what to say. Now it felt awkward to have laid his own problems on Hawk, if he’d dealt with that earlier. But how was he supposed to have known? And what should he tell Hawk now? “Remember what Sensei said about Mr. Kreese,” he reminded him. 

“Of course I remember, do you think I’m a fucking idiot?!” snapped Hawk.

“I _didn't_ say that,” retorted Miguel sharply, his voice stern.

“Well you _should_ say it,” insisted Hawk, his tone not losing its edge yet, “because I _am_ an idiot! You know why? Because I _miss_ Mr. Kreese. How sick is that, right? But when he was around, I was the best in his class. He really talked to me. He told me things. And yeah, I know _now_ he was just talking shit, but back then it felt good, okay? I finally got to know what it must feel like to be _you_ for once.” The raw words flew out of his mouth before his filter could catch them.

Miguel just sat beside him through the outburst. Hawk could imagine his eyes widening and jaw going slack, because he had no immediate comeback. After a long minute, all he asked was, “What do you mean like me?” His voice was small, more troubled than it had been with any previous question he’d asked that night. It barely sounded like Miguel at all, to Hawk’s ears. 

He was making Miguel feel bad, the opposite of what he’d wanted to do. Even if he couldn’t see him in the dark, Hawk could tell, he could feel his stricken eyes on him, which only made him hate himself all the more. After all, none of this was Miguel’s fault. 

Hawk’s face contorted. He felt absolutely miserable. “I don’t get it, man. Don’t you know how cool you are? You’re the champ. You’re amazing. There’s nobody like you. The other guys see it. Sensei sees it. He knows you’re special.” Discomfited with the vulnerability in his words, he clenched his jaw tight and fought hard to strain the next ones out. “I-I wish…I wish _I_ could help you see it.”

“Eli,” breathed Miguel. 

But why should Miguel trust him to help him see it? Hawk couldn’t even trust himself.

“Eli?” Hawk felt Miguel’s hand on his jaw. From the light feeling of his fingers on his cheek, Hawk’s chest convulsed and tears spilled from his eyes. He hated them, but he had no control over them. He turned over, pulling away from Miguel’s touch, hoping he hadn’t noticed. But of course he had. And Eli covered his face in shame.

Once he started, he couldn’t stop, no matter how hard he tried. He didn’t want to be like this in front of Miguel. Why did he have to be so weak in front of Miguel, of all people? Why couldn’t he be stronger for him? Hawks weren’t supposed to cry.

And when Miguel’s hand touched his trembling arm, he curled into himself until he laid his head in Miguel’s lap. Refusing to pull his hands away, he cried through them. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry….”


	4. Kriderii

Miguel didn’t know what to do or say. So he sat there, frozen, as Hawk tried to control his muffled sobs from where his head laid against his lap. It caught him off-guard whenever Hawk’s tough-as-nails veneer cracked to reveal he was still as shy and sensitive as he ever was. And sometimes Miguel liked coaxing some of that side of Eli out of him, but when it exploded like this, when it came crashing in like a wave, it left him stunned.

Especially when he was still processing what Eli had told him before his mask had slipped.

_You’re amazing._

_There’s nobody like you._

_I wish I could help you see it._

Hawk was never the type of guy who gushed over how he felt about things between them. That wasn’t him. Even if he sometimes came across as emotionally distant, Miguel had come to accept that he was simply a man of actions. He thought he spoke Eli’s language well enough now, and he’d come to appreciate the gestures Hawk made to get his feelings across.

Now Miguel wondered how much stirred inside Eli whenever they were together, what things he must’ve wanted to say but couldn’t. And it sunk his insides to realize just how little Eli still thought of himself.

Miguel lowered a hesitant hand to pat Hawk on his shoulder-blades. As soon as he laid it down, Hawk jerked away, sitting up to pull back, like Miguel’s touch was electric. Hawk immediately shifted over to the end of the bed, putting some distance between them, sniffing hard to swallow his bad feelings back down. He furiously wiped at his puffy face, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. 

“Sorry,” Hawk repeated one more time. 

Miguel shook his head, swallowed hard, and muttered back, “It’s, uh, it’s cool….”

He didn’t sound like he meant it to Hawk’s ears; he sounded sullen. He wanted to tell Miguel to forget he said anything, that they should never bring it up again, but he couldn’t put his words back in his mouth. Maybe he could stick his foot in there, though; he was pretty good at doing that.

How could he have done that, broken down like a complete dweeb in front of Miguel? The only solace he could give himself was that this was only the second-worst thing he’d done to embarrass himself in Miguel’s bed, which wasn’t much solace at all. Hawk wished he was anywhere else at that moment. He wished a black hole would open and swallow him up.

Grabbing the flashlight, Miguel turned it on again. Hawk didn’t protest this time. And now he could see Miguel’s expression. He looked so worried. If Hawk thought his facial muscles could do it, he would’ve tried smiling, he would’ve tried playing it all off as a joke to defuse the situation. But he couldn’t. Besides, Miguel would’ve seen through the act, anyway. He knew him better than that by now.

Hawk’s face was scrunched up as he got control of himself again. Miguel’s first instinct was to ask him if he was okay, if there was anything he could do, but he could tell how embarrassed Hawk was by that blush that had spread up his whole face, making his skin look almost as red as his hair. He would've hated to draw anymore attention to it if the situations were reversed. 

“Maybe you should tell Sensei about Mr. Kreese when he gets back,” he suggested. 

Hawk nodded. “Yeah.”

Testing the waters, Miguel scooted closer to him on the bed. When Hawk let him do it, Miguel resisted the urge to lean forward and kiss him. Both because he didn’t think the contact would be welcome, and because he knew it wouldn’t make the problem go away. It hadn’t for him. Things didn't really work like that. And he had a lot he would’ve liked to ask and tell Eli right then. But not now. Later.

Hawk felt Miguel lay a hand on his knee and give it a single squeeze. There were no cloying attempts to get him to dig deeper and spill even more of his feelings, because now wasn’t the right time; everything was too raw at the moment. He was giving him his space. Miguel was great about that sort of thing, which Hawk was grateful for since he didn't want Miguel feeling sorry for him. 

But then there came the guilt. Miguel had looked to him that night for reassurance, to borrow a little of his strength, and he’d let him down. It wasn’t fair to Miguel that he always had to be the one to hold himself together, to be the stronger of the two of them, even during those moments Miguel felt secure enough around him to let his guard down, to admit he had his own insecurities, too.

Hawk told himself he would make it up to him. Soon. He didn’t care if it meant him standing up to Sensei and telling him to give Miguel all the attention in the world. He'd do it if it meant Miguel could feel better about himself.

Right then, though, the only way Hawk could think to make up for it was to put his own hand over Miguel’s and grip it back. They looked at each other, and a small smile crept up Miguel's backlit face. 

* * *

When they arrived at the apartments, Johnny left the music playing for another minute to finish the song before turning off the ignition. But he didn’t make any motion to get out of the car. Carmen noticed after unbuckling her seatbelt, and her hand hovered by the door even as her gaze settled on him. The ride home had been so quiet, and Johnny wanted to hear her voice again before they parted that night to go to their respective complexes.

“Hey, if there’s anything else you want to know about that whole situation, you can ask,” he said, clenching the keys in his hand.

Carmen pressed her lips together and thought on it, never taking her eyes off his as she did so. “Why did you decide to tell me this tonight?” she asked. 

Shifting in his seat, Johnny’s mouth creased. “When you brought it up at dinner, about how Miguel’s starting to think of me as…as sort of like a father, it….” He paused, scratching the back of his neck.

Carmen’s hand moved away from the door handle, and she reached up to turn on the inside car light. “Yes?” she pressed; it sounded more patient than he probably deserved, and everything about her shift in countenance invited him to go on.

“I've been a shit dad to Robby.” It was a statement, not a question to be debated. “And I haven’t always been a good Sensei to Miguel or the others, either.” He knew neither of these revelations was news to Carmen, but there was still a sort of cathartic release in admitting them aloud.

When she didn’t comment, Johnny continued. “The fact that I had this second chance to step up for all of them despite that, it made me want to do the same for my old Sensei. But I learned that only works if you’re willing to change; and Kreese wasn’t, so no matter what, it wasn’t going to work out. I’m not perfect, you know that. But I’ll do whatever I need to do to be there for these kids. Including Miguel. If that means changing from just being his Sensei to being more of a…more like a father, well, I’ll do it.”

And for Carmen’s sake, he’d evolve into the type of man who would stop hiding his mistakes from her going forward. Maybe it was time to start rethinking his policy of encouraging his students to keep how things were run at the dojo from their parents…. 

Well, one step at a time.

Beside him, Carmen nodded. “Alright.”

That was going to have to be enough for now.

Johnny nodded back. “Okay.” He turned off the overhead light and both of them got out of the car. Locking it while Carmen stepped around from the other side, a soft smirk curled at the end of Johnny’s mouth. He offered, “Walk you to your apartment?” He was glad to see that simple smile spread across her face as she accepted his arm.

While they walked the short distance across the parking lot, Johnny asked, “Do you still want me to have that talk with Miguel?”

“I think you should,” answered Carmen. She eyed him in the dark. “Maybe tomorrow.”

They got her place and just as Carmen dug blindly into her purse to retrieve her key, the door opened from the inside. Miguel, holding a flashlight, peeked his head out. “Hey,” he greeted. “Thought I heard your car music out here. Welcome back. Sounds like traffic was a real killer, huh?”

“Bumper-to-bumper gridlock,” Carmen elaborated, grinning with exhaustion as she said it. Miguel stepped aside so she could go in. Then Carmen paused a moment, glancing back over her shoulder at Johnny. She considered whether to invite him inside for a while. 

But before she could decide on that, Hawk maneuvered around her and Miguel and stepped outside. “Hey Sensei, can we talk for a sec?” he asked.

Johnny’s eyes flitted to Carmen and, seeing that look in her eyes, he fought the urge to immediately follow her inside. But his student needed him. “Yeah, sure,” he said, motioning for Hawk to follow him to the sidewalk. He watched as the boy pulled out his cellphone from his pocket while he walked beside him, and in a couple of seconds the thing shined like a flashlight. “How’d you get your smartphone to do that?”

“Uh, just swipe up from the bottom and select this” muttered Hawk, showing it to him real quick.

Retrieving his own phone to try and locate that function, Johnny asked, “So, what’d you need to talk about?”

Meanwhile, inside the apartment, Miguel went to go sit at the kitchen table while his Ya-Ya asked his mother, “ _So, how did things go for you before all this hit? Did he propose to you yet?_ ”

Carmen shook her head at the teasing, shielding her eyes from the flashlight Rosa held too closely. “The dinner was nice before the blackout happened. We had a good talk.” Her mother gave her that knowing look before making her way towards the bathroom. Turning on her cell’s flashlight, Carmen set her purse down on the counter and asked Miguel, “How was your evening? I hope you boys didn’t get bored.”

No, things definitely weren’t boring, that was for sure. “Nah, we managed,” Miguel muttered, eyes wandering over to the door, wondering how things were going between Sensei Lawrence and Hawk.

Walking over to sit in the chair across from Miguel, laying her phone screen-down on the table, Carmen said, “This might sound random, but what do you remember from when Mr. Kreese was in charge of your karate classes?” It wasn’t that she distrusted Johnny. She believed he was telling her the truth from how he saw the events. 

But she couldn’t help but be reminded of the times her husband had trusted the wrong men against his better inclination, how he’d brought dangerous men into not only his life, but his family's as well. He’d had his reasons, too. That didn’t stop things from turning out badly. His reasons didn’t stop people from getting hurt.

She couldn’t be too safe, couldn’t be too sure. She needed Miguel’s perspective.

Miguel’s eyes widened. First Hawk, now his mother. This was a wild night, all around. He’d heard Mr. Kreese’s name more in the past hour than he had in months. By this point, it felt like the old man was becoming a haunting specter. “Um, well, he had us sparring each other a lot,” he answered. “Y’know, one-on-one fights, that sort of thing.”

“Were things different than they were when Sensei Lawrence teaches?” asked his mother. “Be honest with me.”

Something must have happened. What it was, Miguel had no clue. “Yeah, kinda,” he explained. “Like, when we had a match, it didn’t end when we scored the point. He wanted us to keep going, even when our opponents were down.” His mother continued to look at him, and his insides clenched. It felt like he was snitching, for some reason.

Carmen’s eyebrows pinched in worry. “Miguel, did he ever hurt any of you?”

The way she sounded so concerned surprised Miguel. He shook his head. “No, nothing like that happened.” Trying to think about what would’ve spurned his mother to ask such a question, he amended, “Well, there was this time when Hawk was having a match against another one of the guys and he got a bloody nose. I mean, it was an accident, he caught a foot to the face, sometimes that happens. But Mr. Kreese wouldn’t let him stop to take care of it unless he finished the fight or forfeited.”

His mother looked sad and concerned as he told her that. “And Sensei Lawrence kicked him out, is that correct?”

Miguel nodded. “Yeah. He said Mr. Kreese wasn’t teaching things the way he wanted, that his style of karate was outdated. Sensei was worried we were going to pick up bad habits from him, I think.”

Carmen brushed her hair behind her shoulders and weighed in on what her son was telling her. It matched Johnny’s version well enough, helping settle some of the tension inside her. Johnny had made a mistake, and he’d hidden that mistake from her and the other parents the whole time, and for that Carmen wanted to be mad. But whatever she was feeling now was less anger, more anxiety.

“Why didn’t you tell me about any of this?” she asked Miguel.

Her son got that same guilty expression he’d had since he was a boy, the one he got whenever he was caught in a lie. “I dunno,” he mumbled with a shrug, looking down at his hands on the table. “It didn’t seem like that big a deal at the time. I mean, he was Sensei’s Sensei. I thought we were supposed to listen to him. But even then, sometimes I didn’t think I should. Things didn’t feel right.”

“What do you mean?” pressed Carmen.

“What Mr. Kreese was saying,” explained Miguel, “these things about how everyone’s our enemy, and how we’re either winners or losers, it didn't sound like the things Sensei Lawrence teaches us. So I kinda took everything he said with a grain of salt until Sensei Lawrence came back. I was pretty glad when he kicked Mr. Kreese out, to be honest.”

Miguel watched as a new expression came over his mother's face. It was hard to make out with what little light they had at the table, but he thought she looked relieved. Meanwhile, he was as confused as ever. 

* * *

Outside, illuminated only by the cellphones that laid on the ground beside them, Johnny had listened to Hawk while he explained his run-in with Kreese from earlier that day. Hearing Hawk describe how his first reflex had been to freeze when he saw the old man, and how he’d had a moment when he really wanted to believe what Kreese was telling him, it stirred a pang of reflexive guilt inside Johnny. And he thought he’d been over it earlier that night.

His student mostly avoided looking at him while they sat on the edge of the sidewalk, staring instead at where his hands rested on his knees, brows knitted and face neutral, looking almost like he was apprehensive about getting reprimanded for some reason; like he’d done something wrong.

Johnny wanted to laugh at the absurdity of how relevant his old Sensei had turned out to be that evening, but he knew Hawk wasn’t likely to see the humor in it. Besides, the kid seemed weirded out enough by the encounter already.

“Look, I get it,” Johnny assured him. “He’s weaseled his way into your head and you don’t know how to get him out, right?”

Hawk picked at the lint on his black pants as he gave a single nod. “It’s weird,” he tried explaining. “Like, I remember what you told me, but when he started asking how things were with me, it made me forget about that.” He chanced a glance up beside him, expecting to see Sensei Lawrence giving him a look of disappointment. 

Their eyes met, and his Sensei didn’t seem upset with him. 

Johnny understood what the kid was saying. He’d been fully determined to write off Kreese after he showed up that night in the dojo, to tell him to get the hell out. But then Kreese had pulled that trophy out of his bag…and suddenly Johnny was sixteen again, wanting nothing more than his Sensei back in his life. It wasn’t logical. It was emotion, pure and simple.

“Yeah, it’s like that with him,” said Johnny. The back of his throat felt scratchy, like he’d swallowed barbed wire. He wished he had a beer in his hand right then, and he had to remind himself how pathetic it was that his first impulse was always to run back to the toxic comfort of alcohol. 

Hawk’s eyes fell back to his hands, and he frowned angrily. “I guess it was pretty dumb to listen to him at all, huh?” 

Johnny detected the self-disgust in the kid’s voice. He knew what that sounded like. He’d heard it in his own head often enough to recognize that shame. And it made giving Hawk advice on what to do more difficult. He wanted to tell the kid to not be so hard on himself. “What did your instincts tell you?” he asked. Seeing Hawk’s brows pinch in confusion, he elaborated, “Like, what was the first feeling, in both your mind and your gut? What did they tell you?”

“That I shouldn’t trust him,” answered Hawk.

“And did you end up listening to them?” 

Hawk looked like he wanted to argue. “Yeah, today I did. But, Sensei, back when Mr. Kreese was around, my instincts told me I _could_ trust him. Why should I listen to them now?”

Now Johnny was the one glimpsing down at his hands. He balled his right fist and covered it with his left hand, feeling the knuckles press into his palm. “Because it wasn’t your instincts that let you down then,” he corrected. “It was mine. You listened to him because I told you to, right?” 

Hawk avoided Sensei Lawrence’s stare and wished he could do the same to his question, because it threatened to rekindle the fury deep inside him that had caused him to show up to his Sensei’s apartment that day, shit-faced and demanding a confrontation. Looking back on that made him feel ridiculous for so many reasons, but that betrayal had been real and visceral at the time; and it stung even worse when Sensei Lawrence admitted he brought Mr. Kreese into the dojo despite knowing he shouldn’t. 

But he didn’t _want_ to blame his Sensei, even if what he said was true. So he tried arguing again. “But you told Miguel to trust him, too, and he didn’t fall for it.”

“Yeah, well, he’s got a better bullshit detector than you and me,” was Sensei Lawrence’s blunt response, which almost made Hawk crack a smile. “That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t trust your instincts. It’s what I’m teaching you at Cobra Kai, isn’t it? Learn to think with your gut and your head. Sometimes you might get it wrong. But when you stop trusting yourself, that’s when people like Mr. Kreese can really get to you and play with your head. So stay vigilant, you hear me?”

Hawk nodded. “Yes, Sensei.” He then glanced up at his Sensei again and softly asked, “Do _you_ ever miss Mr. Kreese?”

Johnny’s face tightened and he sighed. “Sometimes,” he confessed. He needed to be more honest with the kid, right? Yet, he still caught himself and, not wanting to give Hawk the wrong impression, emphasized, “But he’s not worth missing. I’m telling you, as your Sensei, get him out of your head, Hawk. If you need to, start smacking that big forehead of yours against some boards, if that’s what it takes.”

That time, Hawk did smile some. 

Both of them paused when a sudden flash of brightness drew their eyes over to the adjacent street. “The street lights are back on,” stated Hawk. 

Johnny raised an eyebrow. “Looks like it.” That was some good news at least, even if the apartment complex and all the buildings on the block were still without power. Progress. One thing at a time.

Slipping his phone in his pocket after turning off the flashlight, Hawk stood up and muttered, “I guess I should go home now.” He expected to receive a call or text from his parents any moment, since the streets lights were on; besides, after everything, he liked the idea of heading home, of being around his mom and dad at that moment.

Perhaps he ought to have first stepped back inside the Diazes' apartment and told Miguel he was about to head out, but things were still too fresh and embarrassing from what had happened in his bedroom. Texting him sounded better.

When his Sensei got up on his feet, too, dusting off his slacks, Hawk looked at him one more time. His face went unreadable. “Sensei, what if I run into Mr. Kreese again?”

Johnny glanced down at the kid, and his eyebrows furrowed. “I’ll handle it….”


	5. Fuertesi

The next morning, Johnny got up early and drove. Traffic had returned to normal, so there were few things to distract him from his music as he hit the road. Johnny bobbed his head to The Rolling Stones’ “Sympathy for the Devil” while hardly realizing he was doing so, occasionally looking out the side window when something caught his attention, like the electricians still toiling away at trying to restore power to all the buildings in Reseda.

Once he arrived at his destination and pulled into the parking lot, he remained seated for a few minutes, staring at the place. Maybe if he waited long enough, the problem would come to him instead of forcing him to go looking for it. But he had more balls than that. He hadn’t been proactive that morning to lose his nerve now.

Johnny got out of the car and walked into the building, bypassing the woman in charge, who talked with a man about the blackout. He kept a determined step all the way up the stairs until he came to the room he was looking for. Standing at the doorframe he stared inside, narrowing his eyes at the old man sitting on one of the cots. 

Kreese looked across at him. The two men stared at one another for a silent, agonizing minute, like two cobras with their hoods spread, waiting to see who would blink first so the other might strike. But snakes didn’t blink. Kreese, however, did smile, which looked about as sincere as it did on a serpent. “Johnny, what a surprise. It’s good to see you again. What brings you all the way out in my neck of the woods?”

“How about you cut the bullshit? You know damn well why I’m here,” countered Johnny, stepping into the room.

The smile on Kreese’s face faltered, but he retained his steady glare. “You think I’m a mind-reader now, Mr. Lawrence?”

“Save it, I’m not playing any more of your games.” Johnny’s fists clenched by his sides. Kreese didn’t flinch a muscle. Even now he thought he was the one with the power, and Johnny had to remind himself that his old Sensei had none in this situation. “I heard you talked to one of my students yesterday.”

“Ah, is that why you’re riled up?” asked Kreese, raising his eyebrows. Johnny bristled at his condescending tone, at the way he talked down to him like he was still a teenager. “Yes, I talked to Hawk for a few minutes. Just a little catching up, seeing how he was doing in your class. He’s a talented boy, good soldiers like that shouldn’t go to waste.”

His tone gave it an innocent framing, but Johnny knew better. Kreese always knew what he was doing. He understood the effect he had on people. Every word chosen deliberately. “I’m only going to tell you this once,” stated Johnny. “Stay away from my students.”

“Or what?” challenged Kreese, the inflection in his voice dropping the faux affability. “This is a free country, last I checked.”

Johnny’s fists clenched on reflex. “I’m not gonna let you play head games with any of my kids like you did with me,” he promised. 

Kreese grinned hard again and dismissively shook his head at him. “‘Head games’? Don’t you think you’re exaggerating a little, Johnny?”

“Listen to me, you son of a bitch,” snapped Johnny, “you should count yourself lucky we’re even talking about this at all and you’re not eating pavement right now!”

As soon as the words flew out of his mouth, Johnny tried swallowing the anger behind them back down. It’s what Kreese wanted, to get a rise out of him, to make him revert back to habits he’d taught him. And Johnny was tempted, so very tempted. It would have felt wonderful to slam his fist into his old Sensei’s smug face, to hear knuckles crack against bone as he unleashed over thirty years’ of pent-up rage and hurt in a swift act of retribution. Kreese deserved it. But Johnny reminded himself to stay calm.

He didn't doubt for a second that Kreese saw through his feeble attempt at collecting himself, that he could spot that simmering fury he’d lit all those years ago in him boiling under the lid. “You’re still shoveling that mercy horseshit?” his Sensei asked. “Do you think I’m impressed you’ve turned out to be such a pussy?”

“No, I think you’re really _sick_ ,” retorted Johnny, not rising to his bait. For a brief moment, he recalled the last time he told his Sensei that, and had to remind himself again that _he_ was the one with the power now, _he_ was the new King Cobra; there would be no repeat of what happened in the parking lot all those years ago.

That got Kreese to pinch his eyebrows and frown. “Oh, so I’m sick, am I?” he asked, running a hand over his worn knuckles. Whether he did it out of old habit or as an intimidation tactic, Johnny didn’t know; it didn’t matter.

Johnny repeated, “Yeah, really. You think we’re all soldiers in this war you’ve convinced yourself exists. But none of us were. Not Hawk, Miguel, and the others. And neither were me, Bobby, Tommy, any of us. We weren’t your soldiers, we were your students. We trusted you. We didn’t sign up for a drill sergeant. What we needed was a Sensei, a Sensei who would look out for our best interests.”

Kreese leveled an impenetrable stare at him. “Are you finished?” he asked with derision. Still treating him like a subordinate. It was all he knew how to do.

Narrowing his eyes, what Johnny wanted to tell him was that, no, he wasn’t finished. A part of him longed to scream at Kreese and emphasize that things didn’t have to end this way. Why couldn’t Kreese have just treated him like his equal? Why couldn’t he respect him and his teaching methods? Why was he so afraid of being without complete and total control that he tried stealing away everything? Why couldn’t he see that if all he cared about was passing on his legacy, Johnny was carrying it on in his own way?

But Johnny said none of that. Instead, he shook his head and stated, “Yeah, I’m done.” He then reached into his flannel pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. He wanted to throw it in Kreese’s face but instead showed enough restraint to walk over and set it down on his trunk at the head of the bed. “This is the number of people who help vets,” he explained. “You know, with, like, dealing with everything they’ve seen and shit.”

Kreese scoffed in contempt at that. “You think I’m going to call some shrink?” he asked, his timbre low and hostile.

“Call ‘em or don’t call ‘em, I don’t care,” replied Johnny, shrugging his shoulders. “But this, you and me? We’re through after today.” Or at least they better have been. 

He turned around to leave, only to realize he had one more thing to say. Looking over his shoulder at Kreese, then down at the paper, then back to Kreese again, Johnny told him, “All those times you told us that fear does not exist in this dojo…and you’re too scared to get the help you obviously need.” 

He watched his Sensei’s reaction, how being called a coward hardened Kreese’s face like cold granite. Yet, behind it, did Johnny detect a hint of shame? 

Or was that what he hoped to see?

* * *

By that afternoon, the technicians repaired the generators and restored electricity to Reseda. And after that bit of good news, Miguel found himself being strong-armed by his grandmother into going to the convenience store to pick up a jug of milk, seeing as how the one they had sat all night and morning in a fridge without power. He’d tried to argue that it was fine, but his Ya-Ya wasn’t taking chances with him drinking potentially spoiled milk. So Miguel did as she told him and rode to Nestor’s store to grab a gallon. 

Stuffing the jug of milk in his bag after paying, Miguel stepped outside and got ready to hop on his scooter when he spotted Sensei Lawrence walking out of the Cobra Kai dojo. He had a cardboard box in his hands. “Hey, Sensei, you’re here early,” he called out. “I thought practice wasn’t until four.”

“I had some junk I had to come get,” explained Sensei Lawrence, opening the trunk of his car before setting the box inside. He jutted his chin at Miguel. “Want a ride back to the apartments?”

Miguel beamed. “Sure!” He folded up his scooter and ran over so he could put it in the trunk as well. While he stored it there, he couldn’t help but take a peek inside the box. A framed picture sitting on the top grabbed his immediate attention: a much younger Sensei Kreese, dressed in a military uniform, carrying a rifle. 

Then the trunk closed, blocking it from his sight. Sensei Lawrence must have noticed him looking.

Miguel managed to get into the passenger seat before asking, “What are you gonna do with that stuff?” He didn’t mean to pry but with everyone talking about Mr. Kreese lately, he couldn’t help but be curious.

Sensei Lawrence started the car. “Haven’t decided yet.” 

Part of Johnny wanted to toss all that shit in the garbage, where it probably belonged. Another part thought he should do the half-decent thing and mail the box to the homeless shelter. He decided to sleep on it a night before coming to a final decision.

But that was a secondary concern at the moment. Johnny knew he needed to focus on something else now. “While we’re here, you and I need to have a quick talk,” he told Miguel, driving out of the parking lot.

An instinctive lump formed in the back of Miguel’s throat from the way Sensei Lawrence said that. Things were about to get personal. “About what, Sensei?”

“Since I started dating your mom, do you think things have changed between you and me?”

Miguel gaped at his Sensei. “Changed how?” He was both dreading and excited about where this line of questioning might be leading. Had Sensei somehow picked up on how he’d been feeling lately?

Turning the corner, Sensei Lawrence responded, “Well before this I was just your badass Sensei. But what do you think I am now?”

Miguel then knew his mother must have said something to Sensei Lawrence last night at dinner. She’d seen right through his act in the living room. Of course she did. He racked his brain to think of the right answer to that question before he realized there was no correct response. So he could only shrug. “I don’t know.”

“Look, I know things must be pretty confusing for you lately,” said Johnny, giving him a quick, sympathetic glance from the corners of his eyes before turning his sight back on the road, “and the longer me and your mom go out, it’s probably only going to get even more unclear.”

Miguel frowned, sinking some into his seat.“Yeah, I know.”

Johnny stopped at the red light and eyed Miguel again. The kid looked pretty down. And then there was a moment when Johnny heard the voice again, taunting him that he was going to be a let-down. How could he start to cross that paternal line for Miguel when he had only recently stepped up as a real dad for Robby? Shit, if it came down to it, how could he think about potentially becoming a stepdad at all if his only role model to go off of was Sid?

He told that voice to shut the hell up. Hadn’t he stepped out of Kreese’s shadow and turned Cobra Kai into something worthwhile? One of the things he was most proud of as Sensei was how he’d gotten to the point where his kids had come to trust him, in a way even he’d never had with Kreese. Now he had a chance to go a step further with Miguel. Nothing was stopping him. He was a Cobra in a shiny new skin.

Tapping the pedal when the light turned green, Johnny continued. “You already know I’m on your side as your Sensei, right?” Beside him, Miguel nodded. “Well, while you and me figure out where things start going from here, you need to know that’s still true. And if you need more from me, all you gotta do is tell me.”

It was only then that Miguel fully grasped that he didn’t know what to expect. He understood on an emotional level what he wanted, but he had no real clue how it would look, much less how to put it into words. What did Sensei taking on a more fatherly, or step-fatherly, role even look like in his mind? Certainly not suggesting they go out on Saturdays to shoot hoops, or hugging for no reason, right? He was still Sensei, after all. Then again, maybe.

They were in uncharted waters, Sensei Lawrence was right about that. Miguel knew then he would have to take it one day at a time. He would have to be patient. It wasn’t exactly the clear-cut answer to his problems he’d been hoping for, but Miguel was coming to realize life rarely provided those.

Sensei Lawrence gave him another look while he drove down the road that would lead to Reseda Heights. “But the only way this is going to work is if you feel like you can come talk to me about it, alright?”

Miguel nodded. “Yes, Sensei.” He hesitated for a second, ready to dip his toe into those uncharted waters. They had to start somewhere, didn’t they? And if he could swim in a pool with his hands tied, he could do this. “Since you say that, I was wondering about something.”

Pulling into the parking lot, Sensei Lawrence raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

“Yesterday I saw you had a new pic of Robby on the fridge,” said Miguel. “I mean, I wasn’t being nosy or anything, it just caught my attention while we were talking. Did you want a pic of mom to go up there, too? And…maybe one of me?”

Sensei Lawrence parked in his regular spot, and in the few seconds it took for him to respond, Miguel was almost sure his stomach twisted into a thousand knots. He mentally berated himself, wondering if he had come across as too whiny and insecure. But then his Sensei said, “Alright, if your mom’s okay with it,” and Miguel let out a deep breath, leaning his head back on the headrest, releasing the tension from his muscles.

As they got out of the car, Johnny asked, “Is your mom home right now?”

“Yeah, she’s still got a few hours before work,” answered Miguel. “Wanna come in for a bit?”

When they stepped into the apartment, Carmen was sitting at the kitchen table, going through the mail. She threw up a quick smile at her son before making eye contact with Johnny. He looked back, and their gazes lingered as Miguel took off and unzipped his backpack.

“Hey, Mom, I got the milk like Ya-Ya wanted,” announced Miguel, pulling the jug out and setting it on the table. His eyes then shifted between his mother and Sensei, noticing how they were looking at each other. “Uh, I guess I’ll be going to my room,” he said, gesticulating awkwardly over his shoulder with his thumb. “Probably should work on that English paper that’s due on Tuesday before practice. So, yeah, gonna go do that now.”

After Miguel strolled to his bedroom and shut his door, Johnny turned to Carmen. “I had a talk with him in the car, about the things we were talking about yesterday.”

Carmen took the milk and put it away in the refrigerator. “And how’d it go?”

“Sounded to me like he got all of it,” said Johnny, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter, eyeing the way Carmen stood back up straight after closing the fridge. His gaze then drifted to the refrigerator itself, noticing the pictures magnetized on it: ones of Miguel at various stages of his life, some with his mother, others with his grandmother, school pics, sports pics, seemingly random pics. “He asked me to put up a couple pictures of you and him on my fridge. You okay with that?”

Carmen followed his gaze to the photographs on the fridge. She guessed that must have been what triggered Miguel’s odd behavior the previous day. “Yes, that’s fine.”

“For yours, how about that pic I took last weekend at the boardwalk? Have I ever told how great you look in that red dress?” That got Carmen to smile _that_ particular smile Johnny liked to see. A small smirk curled around the corner of his mouth, happy to see it. “And if you want to start leaving any of your personal things over at my place, that’s cool with me. Maybe a toothbrush?”

Cocking an eyebrow at him, Carmen playfully retorted, “Maybe if we didn’t live right across from each other.”

“Fair enough,” chuckled Johnny. Uncrossing his arms, he closed the space between them. Carmen glanced at him expectantly, but he had one more thing to get off his mind first. “I also took care of that other thing. Thanks again for the phone number.”

Carmen nodded. "Of course.”

“Not sure it’s gonna do any good,” said Johnny with a shrug. “I bet he threw it away as soon as I left.”

Carmen detected the hint of sadness in the way Johnny said that. “It’s like you said,” she tried assuring him. “Someone has to want to change before they can get better. You can’t force them to.”

“Yeah.” Johnny rolled his shoulders like he was casting a heavy weight off of them. He’d done all he could, he reminded himself. “Well, either way, it’s done.”

“And how are you?” asked Carmen.

“Good.” With that out of the way, and not wanting to linger on it anymore, Johnny brought his hands down to rest on Carmen’s hips. “And what about you and me?” he asked, voice lowering. “How are we?”

Her brown eyes met his again, and that same smile as before spread over her lips. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, giving him his answer with a look on her face that invited him to do more. So, raising one hand to her cheek, he guided her into a kiss, which she reciprocated with vigor. He felt her fingers across the nape of his neck, pressing him closer to her.

He guessed they were done talking for a while. That was good, because between Carmen, Hawk, Kreese, and Miguel, Johnny felt like he’d done enough talking over the past twenty-four hours. How was that for juggling?

* * *

At a quarter till four, there came a knock at the apartment door. Miguel grabbed his gym bag and answered it with expecting excitement. “Hey,” he greeted, giving Hawk a fist bump. “How’d things go when you got home last night? Things back to normal in Encino?” Always better to open things with smalltalk, thought Miguel. Ease back into where they left off the previous night. 

“As far as I can tell,” answered Hawk. “You guys good now, too, huh?”

Miguel gestured to where his grandma was watching television in the living room. “Yep.” He then called out behind him, “Ya-Ya, see you later, heading to practice!” She motioned with her hand for him to be quiet, as she was in the middle of her soap at that moment.

“You should check out your Instagram feed when you get a chance,” said Hawk, taking a step backward so Miguel could walk outside. “Bert posted all these videos of the shit he got up to during the blackout and they’re hilarious. He never struck me as the guy who’d survive the apocalypse, but now I’m starting to think I’d have him on my team.”

Miguel chuckled, closing and locking the door behind him. “Alright, I’ll check ‘em out after practice.” His eyes met Hawk’s and he wanted to finally cut the small talk, to say _something_ about what had happened between them before. He was always willing to ignore things that might be too embarrassing, but for important things he didn’t like to let loose ends linger for too long.

It had been on the tip of Miguel’s tongue when Hawk pulled his eyes away. “So did Sensei say anything about what we’re doing today?” he asked, retrieving his keys from his pocket.

“Nah, he didn’t bring it up, but I’m betting it’s gonna be aerial kicks,” Miguel said. “We haven’t done those in a while. You should like that, right? You’re pretty good at it.”

Hawk swelled and smirked. “Actually, I was hoping we’d practice head-butting.” 

Miguel returned his grin. “That’d be fun, too.”

They started walking towards the parking lot, and Hawk pulled a folded piece of paper out of his hoodie pocket. “By the way, this is for you.”

“What’s this?” asked Miguel, unfolding the paper to see for himself. A picture clipped from a newspaper, one of the articles that covered the All-Valley Tournament. He was holding up his championship trophy, and while the other guys from Cobra Kai were there, too, it was Sensei Lawrence he was standing beside. Miguel looked at Hawk for an explanation. 

“Well yesterday you seemed pretty bummed about Sensei not having a pic of everyone in his apartment,” said Hawk, nonchalantly rolling his shoulder as he twirled his car keys in his hand. “So I figured you can just give him that. Problem solved.”

Miguel looked at the picture again. And his insides felt so much lighter for it. “It’s great,” he said.

“So, now are you gonna get over this funk about Keene?” Hawk inquired with a crooked smile, rolling his eyes. “Because, I gotta say, man, between you and me, it’s getting a little—” He got cut off when Miguel wrapped his arms around him tightly. Surprised by the deep hug, Hawk let out an uncomfortable, breathy laugh. “Jesus Christ, you’re still being clingy?” he quipped on reflex.

“You don’t have to be like me,” Miguel whispered by his ear. “There’s nobody like you, either.”

Unguarded by the sincerity of Miguel’s words, Hawk wanted to think of something witty or sarcastic to say, to try and make a joke of it. Instead, he found himself enveloping his arms around Miguel’s back in return, burying his face in his shoulder. He whispered back, “Thanks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who left a kudo/comment! If you enjoyed the story, please let me know.


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